


First Kiss

by faeryn



Series: Tumblrfics [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, ficlets for sponsorships, tumblrfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 22:43:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2043069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faeryn/pseuds/faeryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean visits a local dive bar looking for a good time, maybe hustle some pool and take home some chick whose name will escape him in the morning. However, he finds he's not quite getting the attention he was expecting, and maybe a little more than he bargained for...</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pinkish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkish/gifts).



> Pinkish asked for an Aaron/Dean ficlet with Dean’s first kiss with a guy and smug/understanding Aaron. I hope I’ve done it justice dear! <3
> 
> Edit: After re-reading, I decided to increase the rating to Mature. I don't really consider it particularly so, but I do think that it warrants a higher rating than Teen *laughs* Dagnabbit, there should be an in-between one that means like "not really smutty, but not really teen fiction either" or something :P Anyway, don't let the Mature rating fool you - there's no smut.

The music is loud with a thumping bass and the air is thick with smoke, sweat and the scent of perfume and cologne poured on so heavily it’s almost choking. The dance floor is packed so tightly it’s not possible to get any closer to the other dancers without being physically occupying the same space, and some of the party-loving crowd are attempting to manage just that, grinding and undulating against each other in ways that would be utterly obscene in any other setting. The rest of the club fares little better, capacity regulations gone unheeded in the desperation to make money and it’s impossible to enforce any kind of order. There are a couple of pool tables on one side of the room that offer the place’s only clear space, and that’s only because the other patrons soon realise it’s move or get jabbed painfully in the ass or the kidneys with a cue, where a couple of gangs of rough-and-tough types are conning each other out of money and trying to goad young, impressionable guys into parting with their own hard-earned cash. Each dark corner of the premises hides another unsavory act; from couples who’ve graduated from the voyeuristic displays on the dance floor to something a little more… _intimate_ , to dealers selling party drugs with little regard for discretion. It’s another dive bar in another dive part of town that’ll last a few months before it, like so many before it, is ground into dust beneath the heel of the local law enforcement. And Dean _loves it_. 

He moves with the flow of the room, the thud of the music thrumming through his veins and he would swear up and down that his heart’s beating in time with it. It’s shit, nothing he’d choose to listen to usually, but it does the job of getting his blood pumping and soon he can’t help the instinctual jerks of his head to the regular beat. He learned long ago that struggling to make his way through this kind of place is like trying to swim up a waterfall so he lets the current of the crowd carry him in the right general direction before finding himself on the dance floor and eye to eye with a drop dead gorgeous brunet with soft brown eyes and a top so small her breasts are threatening to fall out if she so much as jiggles. Okay, so he had been _aiming_ for the bar, but this would do. He finds himself pressed against her, his breath hot on her cheek and hers on his throat as they move together, barely keeping time with the pounding music and almost heedless of the crowd around them. All too soon the flow pulls her away from him and he presses a gentle kiss by her ear before she’s dragged out of his reach, staring back longingly at him. He flashes her a cheeky grin and waggles his eyebrows at her before moving off in the direction of the bar again, his skin heated and tingling from the sudden, but not unwelcome, contact. 

Finally he makes it to the bar and digs in his jacket pocket for the few crumpled bills he can reach, his wallet still sitting on his nightstand at home since he knew that between his tight fit jeans and the crowds he’d never be able to get at it, signalling to the bartender for a beer rather than trying to shout himself hoarse over the music. He surveys the room while he waits and then downs the drink in a few long draughts, smacking his lips as he puts the empty bottle back on the bar and signals for two more. He lets his body sway with the music, uncaring that he bumps hips with the guy to his left and the girl to his right. Neither of them seem to notice or care, and Dean pays for his beers before pushing away from the bar and back into the stream of moving bodies. 

He heads across the room with more purpose this time, ducking and weaving until he finds himself on the edge of the oasis of relative calm around one of the pool tables. He lifts a bottle to his lips and takes a swig before sauntering to the other side of the table to where a bunch of tough looking guys are eyeing him warily. 

“What’s up, fellas? Room for one more?” He manages to shout, barely heard over the music. They get the idea and nod, a couple of them flicking their eyes up and down him, obviously sizing him up and finding him lacking. 

“Cash up front, dude,” the leanest guy shouts back and Dean pulls a couple of bills from his pocket, tossing them on the felt with a confident air. The group nod again, their heads bobbing like a flock of birds pecking at seeds and Dean pushes down his amusement at that mental image. The biggest dude gets up then, gripping his cue so tightly Dean thinks it’s going to fracture in his hands like a dry twig, but soon he’s leaned it against the table and is racking up the balls. Dean smiles to himself, chalking his cue and mentally calculating how much money he’s gonna make from these guys - and how long it’ll take him to make it. 

Forty-five minutes later and he’s up three hundred bucks and winking cheekily at another guy watching from the corner. His eyes have hardly left Dean since he started winning and if Dean bends himself a little further over the table to take advantage of the stranger’s interest then, well, that’s his own business. The guy’s pretty attractive, dark hair and tanned skin from what Dean can see and he’s surprised that a kid like him is wasting his time watching other people play pool than finding himself some action on the dance floor. He leans down again, running his hand down the cue in a provocative gesture with a pointed look at his solo audience before lining up to take his shot. He curves the white ball artfully across the table to hit the black and double it into a corner pocket, the backspin he put on the white making it pull back mere centimetres from the lip of the pocket and roll away just barely to safety. 

His opponent tosses his cue on the table in disgust and Dean grins at him wolfishly as he collects his winnings. The gang of dudes might look less than savory but they honor their bets with reasonably good grace and Dean recognizes it’s time for him to move on before they lose their temper. His admirer catches his eye and a jerk of his head has Dean following him curiously, wondering where this is going to go. He checks out the guy as he follows him, from his sensible loafers to his jeans and the red plaid shirt Dean briefly thinks would be more at home in Sam’s wardrobe than on this skinny guy. Still, Dean’s buzzed from the beers - they’d managed to grab some more from the bar so Dean was on his fifth or so by now - and feeling adventurous. It’s not long before they’re tucked away in a corner of a hallway just off the main room, far enough away from the dance floor for the music to be somewhat more muted and away from the hungry eyes of other partygoers. Dean would feel anxious, if he didn’t know about the flick knife in his boot and the fact that the guy looks like he weighs a hundred-twenty pounds soaking wet, and Dean can definitely take him. 

The other man turns towards him and Dean notes soft brown eyes that he couldn’t see from under the glare of the lights over the pool table and the scent of stale pot smoke before he finds himself boxed in by the shorter guy, gentle hands finding his hips and swaying them both vaguely to the music. He swallows thickly but goes with it, this unasked-for interest from another male sparking interest and curiosity in him. He lets the guy press close to him, push him back a little until his shoulders hit the wall, his hands drawing warmth to Dean's hips as they dance and he can't help but move his own to the man's waist, if only to stop them hanging limply at his side. Hot breath ghosts over his ear as the guy leans close and Dean's heart ramps up impossibly faster, hammering a staccato beat against his ribcage and he swallows again nervously. 

"Relax," the guy murmurs, barely audible over the music but close enough to Dean that he can hear him, "name's Aaron, you?"

Dean's arms curl loosely around Aaron's slim waist, drawing him in until Dean can lean down to his ear to return the introduction.

"Dean," he manages simply, not sure what else to say at this point.

Aaron's arms snake up and over his shoulders, one hand pushing into his hair and the other caressing the back of his neck soothingly, as if he can tell Dean is uncertain. In retrospect he probably can, since Dean's body is taut with anticipation and almost quivering with the anxiety that thrums through him like the thundering bass of the shitty dance music. 

"I don't normally do this," Aaron confesses, his words soft in Dean's ear, "but watching you wave your ass around while you took those guys for all they've got was _hot_."

Dean can't help smiling, pleased his teasing display was noticed, even if not quite by the kind of person he'd usually intend. 

"Yeah, well, I don't normally do this, like, at all, so you're one up on me, buddy," he replies, squeezing Aaron's waist gently and marveling at the lack of the voluptuous curves he's so used to.

"I find that hard to believe," Aaron all but purrs in his ear, "guy as beautiful as you in a place like this? You must have to beat 'em off, pun _definitely_  intended." Aaron's voice lowers to a heady growl and Dean shivers despite himself. It's a tone he recognizes, one he himself uses to get into a chick's panties, but he hadn't expected to ever be on the receiving end of it, let alone find it so damn distracting.

"Heh, not exactly," he confesses nervously, pleased that they're pressed so close so that they can talk that Aaron can't see the flush that colors his cheeks.

Aaron shifts and rubs his face against Dean’s, nuzzling him affectionately and making their stubble rasp together. The sensation is weird and Dean jerks away in surprise, his eyes widening as his body tenses. The other man raises an eyebrow at him quizzically before realisation crosses his face and his mouth falls open in shock. 

“You’re _straight_ ,” he says, blinking at Dean in confusion.

Dean looks back at him sheepishly and shrugs, his arms still loose around Aaron’s waist. “More or less,” he admits, knowing there’s been plenty of times in his life he’s ogled another guy’s ass or appreciated the hard lines under a too-tight shirt, he just hasn’t done anything about it - before now. 

Aaron steps back and grabs his wrist, tugging him down the hall and out through a fire door in the wall at the end. This kind of place isn’t concerned enough with safety to have alarms attached to their doors and Dean’s silently grateful for that fact - he sure wouldn’t have wanted to fight their way through the masses in the main room in order to get out of here, he’s feeling self-conscious enough as it is. 

They stop and Dean finds himself suddenly pressed back against a wall again, hard brick this time instead of smooth paint and he’s careful not to scrape his elbows as his hands find Aaron’s waist again. He breathes out in relief, his sudden thoughts that the guy was going to give him hell for leading him on skittering away as Aaron pushes his fingers back into Dean’s hair. He stares hard into Dean’s eyes and licks his lips, not missing how Dean’s gaze flicks down to watch his tongue slide across the soft skin and Dean’s brain momentarily short-circuits as he imagines how they would feel pressed against his own. 

“More or less?” Aaron quirks his eyebrow and Dean feels his face color as the man presses against him as he had done inside, leaning back so they can maintain eye contact.

“Well, y’know, I’m, uh,” Dean clears his throat nervously, “not, um…” he trails off as Aaron gives a soft snicker, clearly amused by his hesitance. 

“So, you ever kissed a guy before, or have you just never been _intimate_ with one?” Aaron’s hands are on his hips again and his thumbs are rubbing lazy circles on the skin above his waistband, pushed up under his t-shirt and making a flush of cool sweat skitter across his skin and make the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand up. 

“This is literally the closest I’ve ever been to another guy,” he manages to say, his voice so quiet it’s almost a whisper. For some reason he feels embarrassed, a far cry from the confident, cheeky guy who walked into the bar only an hour or so ago. 

One of Aaron’s hands slips out from under his shirt and slides up his arm until it reaches his neck, light fingertips trailing across the soft, sensitive skin there before moving to cup his jaw. He rubs his thumb across Dean’s cheek gently, his eyes boring into Dean’s with a mixture of amusement and hunger, and a slight touch of a smug smile gracing his lips as if he’s pleased to be the first guy to be close to Dean like this. 

“I’ll have to make sure you want to do it again, then, won’t I?” Aaron’s voice is full of suggestion and Dean gulps before nodding his assent.

Aaron leans in slowly, giving Dean plenty of time to pull away if he wants to, and he does for a split second when he feels the other man’s breath on his lips before pushing himself forward to close the gap. The smaller guy makes a quiet sound of pleasant surprise before he’s massaging Dean’s lips with his own, his fingers brushing around the side of his face and back up into Dean’s hair where they stroke and caress the back of his head. Dean curls his arms more tightly around Aaron and brings them closer together, kissing back with all the talents he’s learned from the chicks he would usually be doing this with. He’s a masterful kisser, and Aaron lets him lead enthusiastically, opening his mouth at the first touch of Dean’s tongue to his lips and practically melting in his arms. 

Dean’s surprised to find that Aaron’s lips are softer than he’d have expected and it’s nicer than kissing a woman. There’s no sticky lipstick or gloss smearing across his face, no sweet, floral fragrance threatening to choke him if he moves down to the man’s throat. He’s wearing some kind of cologne, but it’s subtle and pleasant - reminding Dean more of a homely scent than the perfume of a one night stand. He moves until their lips are in the perfect position, licking into Aaron’s mouth without hesitation and holding him close, one arm curved tightly around his waist and the other boldly sliding down to curve his hand around Aaron’s ass. Soon they’re pulling apart, too breathless to continue, but Aaron’s face is flushed and his eyes are clouded with lust while his plump, well-kissed lips quirk up in that smug smile again. 

“ _God_ you’re good,” he murmurs, brushing his fingers through Dean’s hair and making the taller man’s eyes close in bliss at the gentle caress.

“That was awesome,” Dean manages to reply as soon as he’s caught his breath, and he’s just looking down at Aaron and about to close in for round two when the smaller guy suddenly pushes away and dances out of his reach with a cheeky look. 

“Listen man, as fun as this is, I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself if we carry on much longer,” his voice is serious, though his eyes hold a twinkle of mischief and he smirks unashamedly. Dean flushes as Aaron’s eyes flick down to the noticeable bulge in his jeans that he’d been hoping to hide and that smirk turns into a knowing wink. 

“So?” Dean shoots back, the word and his expression a challenge - and an offer. 

“ _So,_ Dean, as much as I’d love to take you back to my hotel room and fuck you into the mattress until you can’t even _think_ straight,” Dean’s cock jerks in his pants at the startling visual, “your first time should be with someone worthwhile, not some random guy you met in a shady bar.” 

Aaron closes the distance between them again, pressing close to Dean and making him whimper as he feels another hard length press against his own, evidence of how truthful Aaron’s words are. He leans up and ghosts a kiss across Dean’s lips, a barely there press of lips that is both a farewell and a promise of what more could await him. 

“‘M not a virgin,” Dean mumbles against Aaron’s lips and the man chuckles, drawing away to shake his head.

“You are in the way it counts tonight, babe, unless you were kidding me with that ‘never been this close to another guy before’ schtick.” Dean flushes again and can’t meet Aaron’s eyes. “I’m in town for a month,” Aaron continues, and Dean feels the press of something hard-edged in his palm, “maybe I’ll see you around.” 

Aaron closes the distance between them again, kissing Dean hard and taking the lead in a way Dean has never experienced before. He’s usually content to let chicks boss him around, but when they kiss he’s always the one in charge - having someone else push him back and shove his tongue into his mouth is a new sensation that only serves to worsen the tightness in his jeans. When he’s breathless and whining for more Aaron breaks away, that self-satisfied expression back in place as he backs off completely leaving Dean panting against the wall with shaky legs and the most uncomfortable erection he can recall having in all his adult life. 

Before Dean can object or even say anything more Aaron is gone, disappeared around the corner of the building like he wasn’t sporting a boner almost as bad as Dean’s. He swallows a few times, trying to catch his breath and work out what the _hell_ just happened. He lifts his hand to wipe the sheen of sweat from his forehead and suddenly remembers the object pressed into his palm - sneaky bastard must have kissed him senseless to give himself time to escape before Dean could work out what it is. He lifts it up and angles it into the weak light from the parking lot’s solitary streetlight and smiles - a business card.

_Aaron Bass  
_ _717-555-0184_

**Author's Note:**

> I don't often write in the present tense and last time I did I fucked it up a lot (I still have to go back and fix that, actually...) so please please please let me know if there's any major problems in this one! All my work is unbeta'd so I rely on you gorgeous people to help me pick things up when my constant re-reads just don't cut it *laughs*
> 
> Feel free to tumble with me (ooh la la!) on Tumblr! On my [main blog](http://faeryn.tumblr.com) or my [very quiet writing sideblog.](http://faerynfics.tumblr.com)
> 
> Wanna hear a funny story about this one? I sent a 400-odd word snippet of this fic to the Abuse team because apparently my phone thinks it's fun to assign mailing lists to random things instead of the e-mail address I'm actually trying to send to! \o/ Way to go Ehryn, haha XD (At first I was mortified, now I just find it hilarious!)


End file.
